Brother, Dearest Thou Art
by CellarDoors
Summary: Seven years have passed since the crowning of the Pevensies. As they lead Narnia into a Golden Age, Peter finds love and marriage. However, his brother is not best pleased with his choice of bride... Brother fic, most likely oneshot depending on reviews
1. Jealousy Remains Strong

**Brother, Dearest Thou Art**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing**

**Author's N: No incest, though the title may make it sound like there is. Simply lots of brotherly love.**

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I picked gloomily at the white rose that adorned many of the Cair's hallways. Somewhere in my soul I knew that I should be rejoicing, but I could not find the will to do so. I had sought solitude, knowing my siblings would pick up on my feelings otherwise, and I had not wanted to distress them with my own thoughts. I had known that this day was long coming, but... but... _I had not expected it to be so soon... I had not expected..._

I had not expected to lose my brother.

For however I looked at it, that was what was happening. My brother, my dearest friend, my confidant, my ally... my _King_... was being torn from me. Worse yet was that he was being torn willingly. If there had been enemies at our door I would not have let him go. But with my only enemy being the _love_ he had decided he'd found (after declining so many), with what weapons could I fight? I could not use emotions to toy with him as I once had; our bond was stronger than that, and I felt no desire to hurt him, despite the pain he was (unintentionally) bestowing upon me.

I was supposed to be Just. I was supposed to be – by Aslan's mane – the _Just King_ of Narnia. And I was behaving like a spoilt child. Blow it... I _was_ still a child. Eighteen, perhaps, but ... but...

I could find nothing justified about the anger and annoyance I felt towards the one who had stolen my brother away. It was ridiculous, utterly inconceivable that I be jealous of _this_... but I was. I was _terrified._ Four years had shown me that Peter was the greatest ally a brother could ever want. Where once I had pushed him aside now I embraced him fully; allowed him to soothe the edges of my darkened heart.

He was _my_ brother.

And she could not have him.

Without warning I felt the ground beneath me lurch. The prospect of losing Peter was harsh enough – the thought that Peter might... _want_ to be lost to me was excruciatingly painful. I found myself suddenly needing more air than Cair Paravel could supply. I ran, without thought, bolting from the Castle, knowing not where I ran to, simply... running. Eventually I found myself at the Stone Table, and almost collapsed against it – tears that I could not reason falling hard and fast. Grateful for the silence around me, I clenched at the stone, pouring my grief out in solace. "Merciful Aslan..." I choked out, softly. "Please, do not take him from me..."

Time passed, as, regrettably, it always seems to. I stood eventually, knowing I would have to return, have to explain my absence to Peter, and try not to anger him. I knew he knew of my disapproval... and that he waved it aside as merely jealousy that I had not found a bride of my own. If only he knew the truth. I wanted no bride, could not _ever_ imagine being ... married (the very word made me shudder), but what was being taken from me was too much to comprehend.

As I began to make the walk back to the Cair, however, the sound of a whinnying horse met my ears. I knew that whinny well enough that it caused a weary smile. _Phillip_. The smile faltered almost immediately as I realised there was only one way he could have known where I was. Peter. Peter had noticed I was missing, and sent Phillip to scout for me. Which meant Peter knew I had left Which meant he would be angry with me _for_ leaving. I sighed heavily, shaking my head. I moved to meet the horse – surprised to see him followed by my own brother on his white steed. The relief on Peter's face at finding me was enough to guilt me as he slid from the Unicorn and embraced me tightly.

"By the Lion, Ed!" he exclaimed eventually. "When Su told me you were missing I..." he shook his head. I sighed against his shoulder, unwilling to let the embrace go even as he pulled away. He frowned. "Ed?" Concern flashed across his eyes as I refused to meet them, and he gently placed a hand on my cheek, forcing my chin gently up so he could read my expression. "What's this, brother?" he asked softly. "what ails thee?"

I shook my head. "Is naught but a shadow of a doubt, brother," I tried to reassure, without realising slipping into the Narnian speech we now knew in an attempt to keep the emotion from my words. "A doubt that is, in any case, not mine to have." I hesitated "Peter... forgive me for questioning this but..."

He frowned as I paused. "Continue?" he gently prompted. I sighed.

"The Lady..." I hesitated, barely able to say the title she'd been graced with. "You are truly... _happy_ with her?"

To my astonishment and outright disbelief he let out a light chortle. "Aslan bless and keep you, brother!" He pressed a kiss atop my head that I could hardly understand. "Here I worry that you have perhaps found some dislike to the Lady, and yet all you do is worry for _my_ feelings." He shook his head. "Fear not, brother dearest, for the Lady is close to my heart, closest perhaps than she ought to be..." he shrugged. "but love is nay unstoppable, is it not"

I sighed. _That is precisely what I am concerned for._ I managed a smile. "think nothing more of my thought, Peter brother." I said softly. "T'was but passing momentum."

"And passing ridicule!" he added with a chortle. I flinched, and nodded. "Aye."

"Now, no more of this foolishness, Ed, we should return for the Lady shall be looking for me, and I would return to her." I hesitated.

"might I linger a while? I shall return before the celebrations start." I promised. Peter turned to me slowly, and I felt his gaze burn through my eyes. Without warning he strode to my side, pulling me into a crushing hug. For what seemed like an age we stood there in silence, my brothers arms embracing me close.

Eventually, he dropped his head pressing a kiss firm to my forehead. "Brother, thou art most dearest to me above all," he promised. Without another word he moved to his steed, hoisting himself up and turning from me. As he began to ride away, he glanced back. "I shall expect you back within the hour!" he warned, before galloping off into the distance.

I shook my head, defeated. Phillip whinnied and trotted to my side, nudging my shoulder with his nose. I closed my eyes, moving to him and pressing my face into his neck, stroking his mane without a word. "you must tell him," the horse said eventually, with a soft whinny that I supposed should have been a whine. I shook my head.

"What good would it do, Phillip? He loves her..." the words sounded wrong, foreign on my tongue. "He is _happy_."

"You know if he knew then he would not spend a mere moment by her side," The horse said softly. I bit my lip, falling silent. Truth was, I wasn't sure _what_ Peter would do. He had never... loved anyone outside his own family the way I had seen him love with this woman. I could not understand the attraction to her myself, but then perhaps my protection over Peter, my brother, went past all that.

"Perhaps." I said softly, though my heart disagreed. In heavy silence I walked side by side with Phillip, the knowledge of what had been and passed, and what was yet to come silencing me utterly as we made our way back to the Cair, Peter, and a world I was certain was about to change forever.

**Author's N: Reviews are much appreciated, please.**


	2. To Have and to Hold

**Brother, Dearest Thou Art**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

**Author's N: The unintentional second chapter which you have all asked for has now been written. This story has become a lot darker due to it, for which I apologise. However, many thanks to you all for your reviews.**

**Thanks: My thanks to Elecktrum for beta'ing this chapter for me.**

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As their wedding drew closer, so the nightmares drew me deeper. I could not sleep for fear of them; such dreams I had not had since my darkest hours as Narnia's traitor. A time I had thought long forgotten...

How ironic that it should return to me in the form of my brother's bride.

_People can change..._

I tried to convince myself of this, consistently, but to no avail. Yes, people could change. I was living proof of that. But... but... could _she_? With the temptation of the Crown at her fingertips, and Peter's ear forever ready to listen, would she be able to resist the lure of temptation once it called? And would Peter, glorious, Magnificent Peter, heed the warning as it whispered in his ear, or would love, indeed, conquer all? Would his passion for her override the love he felt for a Kingdom that would come to its knees if _she_ were let loose upon it? I never told myself the answer for it terrified me.

I barely spent time with my family, these days. I would see Peter, sometimes, glance upon me with a hurt expression in his eyes; confusion, fear, doubt, and a whole host of emotions I could not bear to look too deep into. It sickened my heart to know he was as lost as I in this deterring of the fellowship we had once created between us. But what else was I to do? For wherever he went, _she_ undoubtedly was. It was as though she were tied to a string, and he pulled her along. Or worse, as though they were attached by heart and soul, and nothing short of death would tear them apart.

My time spent in solitude was spent well, though. I coached our armies in the way of the Sword, as the good General had taught me, and in my free time – not that there was much – I studied the ways of Narnian Justice, finding myself much pleased and impressed with it as I read through the library. I was barely available; a fact I found most helpful in dodging Peter's fiancée, and, admittedly, Peter himself. I did not look forward to a confrontation with him; I knew that the moment he started questioning me I would break, and with my breaking would follow his heart's.

The burden I held weighed heavily upon me; and though I wished desperately to confide in someone, I could not. Phillip knew, of course, but he was my best friend, save the good High King himself, and I knew I could trust him to hold true to a promise of silence. Who else could I trust? A single word to Orious would have the centaur marching up against the woman my brother had chosen as his queen, and destroying her on the spot. Although part of me... most of me... wished for that most reverently I knew without doubt that the end of Peter would soon follow, and that I could not, would not allow. He was my brother, and above all, my King. He was set above me, in age and in title, and I could not but wish to stand by him.

Who was I, to question a King who had charged against armies so fierce and won by courage and strength?

He was my brother, my King, my ally, my best friend... and I could not bear to break his heart.

So I suffered. So I lay, tormented by nightmares I'd thought were well put to an age ago, simply to allow that which I loved above all (even, I'd admit with shame, above Lucy and Susan) the happiness and love he'd craved for so many years.

I escaped from the palace on Phillip's back; the horse, my trusted friend, knew me well enough not to ask questions as we travelled into the western woods to which I had been crowned. Within the woods, and by permission of the dryads and other spirit beings that inhabited the trees, we had together created a statue of sorts of Aslan Himself. It was something I had not yet told Peter or Susan of, though Lucy knew of its presence. The carving, made of birch wood, was kept safe and secret inside one of the caverns within the western woods; a haven for all those who might want to find refuge from the storms that oft raided Narnia's borders.

I moved inside, grateful to be out of the rain as it began to patter around us, whilst Phillip moved off to find some grass. I fell to my knees before the carving, closing my eyes and trying to gather my thoughts. My love and respect for the Lion was equal to that I had for my own brother. It hurt deeply that we could no longer confide as we once had, though much of that was my own fault.

I dropped to kneel before the great carving "Aslan, Lion of strength, wisdom and grace forever withholding," I began softly "Grant me the courage, the strength, the will to understand that which you've placed before me. Allow me to see past my jealousy, my fear, and welcome my brother's lady into my heart, as he has. Allow my friendship with the High King to be reinstated. Narnia cannot be ruled with quarrelling Kings; even though they quarrel in silence alone. Help me understand her purpose here..."

I was all but trembling as I spoke, the passion I felt in the words overpowering. I missed Peter desperately – missed his quiet, comforting presence, and longed for nothing but to be within his graces again. I would all but die for him, and yet it hurt to know that perhaps, just perhaps, my place in his heart had been taken by another

There was no answer from the statue; not that I expected one. I did not... deserve one.

I must have knelt for hours before I was jerked out of the world I had driven myself into by a voice harsh and rough. "King Edmund?" I turned, to see Orious standing there, sword by his side. I swallowed brief fear, for a fleeting moment wondering if Peter had, under her command, demanded my execution. I shook the thought away.

"General?" I replied, raising slowly to my feet. The centaur regarded me seriously before turning away.

"Come, your brother wishes to speak to you." He spoke so softly that I had to strain to listen to him above the now pounding rain.

I sighed softly. "Of course, General." I followed him silently, barely feeling the rain as it soaked the comfortable Narnian attire I wore. I trailed after the General in silence, my thoughts askew as I wondered what Peter could possibly have that he might want to talk to me about. As we entered the well lit study room that Peter and I once had shared, I bit my lip, seeing Peter gazing out of the window.

"Thank you, General," he spoke as he turned. The General nodded, bowed, and left. Peter glanced briefly at me, sighing softly. "Honestly, Ed, do you have to be such a bloody blockhead?" he snapped, and I jumped slightly. "Going out in _that_ weather, without a _coat _for Aslan's sake!" He shook his head, marching over to where his own cloak lay, and moving to my side, as he roughly pulled it around me. I could not deny that the warmth was welcomed, and simply stood quietly, unable to understand what was going on. "By the Lion's mane," he continued softly. "For one so concerned for others, you have little concern for your own good manner, sir!"

"I had not thought _my_ wellbeing was within your concerns, High King." The words left my mouth without my say-so, and I cursed and glanced down as Peter spun to face me.

"Repeat that," he demanded, very softly. I trembled slightly. Though he might not mean to be, Peter was never more terrifying than when he was so quiet. With Peter, that sort of tone generally meant he was close to exploding; something I had only ever seen him do twice, and both in defence of me or the girls. This time, to have his rage directed _at_ me... "I am waiting, Sire." He snapped, and I took a breath.

"It matters not, Peter." I said quietly. "there is nothing for you to concern yourself over," I rose. "May I have your leave to depart?"

"No," the High King declined, meeting my eyes. "You will not leave this room before you explain your actions. Not only to me but towards the Lady also. You have behaved nothing short of beastly, sir, and your behaviour shocks and embarrasses me. Indeed, I had thought you much improved but it seems you have returned to your ways."

The words stung, and I swallowed. "My ways?" I echoed "The ways, you mean, of a traitor?" Silence. I shook my head. "Very well, I see now. You hold grudge against me still, and believe if I turned from you once I should again," I shrugged off the cloak, setting it down, despite the shivers that wracked my body from the cold of the outside weather I'd been exposed to. "Before you doubt me, Peter Pevensie, perhaps you should look upon the company that you keep so closely. Perhaps you should wonder why I seek to avoid the one you name as "Lady", and look to her before you attempt to understand me and my council."

He seemed to falter slightly. "I... Ed?"

I shook my head. "I do not wish to talk of this. Look to your Lady, High King, before you question and accuse those who have always stood beside you in times of peril." I made a bow, "Now, if you will, I shall retire from your sight, for I believe it is most unseemly for a King to appear to have any sense of emotion, and if I am to be sneezing and coughing for the next days I would rather do it in cheerful company."

With that I walked from his sight, out of the room, and to my own chambers, leaving instructions with the guards not to allow anyone; not even Peter; access. They looked nervous, but I knew they would comply. After all, we were _both_ Kings, and within our own time and place we looked upon each other as brothers and siblings above all else.

As I moved into my room, I collapsed into the chair, head in my hands. Taking a deep breath, I tried to remember how I could have ever believed Peter and I could have any sort of relationship. I must have fallen asleep, because the next thing I remembered was a banging on my door. I stretched so slightly, before standing, moving over with a frown. The guards had strict orders; I knew it must be important. Upon opening it, I saw Peter. Even in the fury that radiated off him, he was Magnificent. Whoever doubted his rule only had to look at him to realise he was born to be King. "Peter," I sighed softly. "May I help you?"

"Your sword, sir," I frowned at the anger in his voice.

"My...?" I barely had time to answer before he whirled, unsheathing his own sword, spinning to face me, poised to attack.

"Pick. It. Up," he ordered, and I heard the voice of the High King rather than that of my beloved brother.

"Peter—" I trailed off as he whirled, sword flying as he moved to attack me. I darted out of the way, picking my own sword from where it lay, my eyes wide. "Peter, what has gotten into you?!"

"You defile Aslan!" he snarled, and our blades clashed together, mine in defence, his with the soul intent to kill.

"How??!" I demanded, adrenaline and shock pulsing through my body. "How have I earned this conduct, brother??"

"By defiling that which I hold most dear. By taking what is not yours, and taking without consent." He rattled off, and I registered the words with confusion, trying to keep my mind on his sword as it swung through the air, consistently trying to find ways to cut mine off.

"I have never defiled anything you hold close!" I protested. "My aim was to protect you always!"

"Oh, indeed, brother?" he snarled. Eyes narrowed, I did not recognise the man standing before me. "I have the very word of the victim!"

"What victim?!" I shook my head. "I have ne'er done a Narnian harm since my rule began!"

"That is a _lie_," he spat, as we danced about each other. "I have the lady's word, and by that I hold dearer than your own, _brother_."

In my shock I almost dropped the sword. "The "Lady"?" I echoed. "She ... is accusing me of defiling her?" The irony was almost laughable. Almost.

"You have taken an innocence's virtue, sir, and do not deserve the title bestowed upon you by the Lion," He smashed the sword out of my hands, bringing me to my knees. I met his eyes, shaking my head.

"How love turns the head, brother," I whispered. "You would believe the word of one you have known but months over that which you grew with, that which protected and fought with you during battles large and small? That which attempted to kill the White Witch in order to save you?"

"I believe her," he affirmed. "Why would she lie?!"

I shook my head. I knew eventually I would have to deal with this, but... but... _I had not wanted to._

_**Be strong, Son of Adam**_**, **I jumped slightly as Aslan's voice sounded in my ear; so close I almost looked about to find him. _**The time has come for your brother to know the truth. He has been tested, and found wanting. Now is the time for him to learn Magnificence must learn to be meek also. Trust in me, Son of Adam, take my strength as your own, and be freed from that which binds you to your past.**_

I closed my eyes, standing slowly, despite the anger in Peter's eyes as I ignored the obvious command to bow before him. Though he could command me by will, my duty was first to Aslan, and from him I knew I had to tell Peter, before I lost him forever to a woman who would see Narnia brought down into fire and ash. I moved outside, turning to my guards. They had been sworn to secrecy, and found loyal, but now it was time for them to break their vow. "Allerdran, Eunton," They turned to me. "I would that you would follow me, and break the promise I once bound you to," The guards glanced at each other, before nodding a bow to me equally. I sighed softly, letting the centaurs enter the room, my eyes on my brother, who stood, rather awkwardly, with his sword, no longer so sure of himself. "Brother," I spoke softly. "I held Allerdran and Eunton under oath not to speak of the matter I now ask them to tell you. I am under command by Aslan-" as he moved to speak I shook my head. "Nay, it matters not how I received the command, all you should know is that he has commanded me to speak the truth to you. And thus, I follow his rule." I took a breath, nodding to one of the centaurs.

Allerdran glanced at his brother before, making a slight bow to the High King. "Your Highness, several nights ago the Lady entered the Just King's chambers without detection," he paused. "We have no knowledge of how, but-"

I held up a hand. "Allerdran, you are both already granted forgiveness for that matter, considering how you came to my aid that night. Please, think no more of it, for it was not your fault."

The centaur nodded, and continued. "The Just King had commissioned us an hour break, Sire," he spoke to Peter, whose eyes seemed riveted on me. "When we returned we heard strange noises...." he hesitated. My own eyes were cast to the ground as I recalled that night; the night that saw the return of nightmares worse than the reality. The Centaur glanced my way, hesitantly.

"Continue," I whispered, sinking upon the chair, steadying myself for the words and Peter's reaction.

"The Just King was calling for help," the Centaur began. "As we entered the room – by force – we saw why. The... the Lady..." he took a breath, mirrored by my own. "She had a knife to your brother's throat, High King, but... that was not the worst part,"

Peter was already shaking his head in disbelief. "No, I don't..."

I swallowed. "hear them out, Peter. Then judge me as you will." The blonde King fell silent, and Eunton continued in his brother's stead. His voice was calm, with a hint of anger that somehow settled me, rather than the pure emotion that had driven his comrade's. They were two Centaurs of the noblest order – in fact, of Orious's clan, and I loved them both as dearly as if they were my own kin.

"She was upon your brother, High King. His clothes had been removed, and we believe that ..." He hesitated.

"Ed..." I heard the High King whisper, but could not glance in his direction. My mind was trapped; back in this very same room that night, terrified. I had been... so scared. I had done the woman no wrong, but she...

"Your brother kept us under oath, Majesty," the centaur finished softly. "otherwise we would have come to you in the blink of a star"

"Which is precisely why I ordered you against it," I said softly.

I felt more than saw Peter move to my side, and press a hand to my knee. "Ed... why did you never tell me?" he choked, and when I glanced up, there were tears in his eyes.

I shook my head. "You love... her." I pointed out softly. "I knew that if ... if it was time for me to tell you then Aslan would tell me so. I knew that if she was worthy, he would allow you to marry her."

The High King leaned forward, pulling me into a forceful embrace. "Oh, Ed... I'm so sorry," he whispered. I closed my eyes, allowing him to hold me, allowing the comfort I'd so longed for.

**Author's N:... Reviews are, as always, much appreciated. **


	3. Comfort

**Brother, Dearest Thou Art**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

I was sickened to my heart at the betrayal of the Lady I had so trusted with my life, my country, my family. Her deceit had knocked me so far backwards I was not sure I could recover. I had loved her utterly – perhaps even more than I loved my brother and sisters, in some ways, and she had used that love and turned it in its perfection into something evil. I knew I could do nothing but my duty. However ill the thought made me, I knew my duty, as always, was to Aslan, to Narnia, to Edmund and to my sisters. I had to keep them safe. I had failed him entirely not just once, but twice now, and I would rather die than see it happen again.

Thus I gave my orders to Orieus with a weakened soul; watching his face, knowing at any hesitation from him I myself might hesitate. But the good General did not say but a single thing. His face betrayed none of his thoughts, and as he rode off to do my bidding, I found myself truly grateful for such guidance. I made sure, though, I was there when they took her away. Calling for me and mine, in such good faith, the Lady's eyes flashed upon my face as she was pulled past me. My body trembled; not one whit; though my soul cracked into pieces, each so small it could not be counted, as I watched the woman I had loved so dearly be cast from my country. I was utterly sure in my decision, though I knew my heart to be in despair. I could not allow her to stay when she had deceived us all so. I could not allow her to stay, when Edmund had resisted telling me sooner simply for brotherly love. He had, eventually, trusted me with his secret, and I would not betray him a third time. He was my brother, my second-in-arms, my fellow King, and my most loyal friend... how could I do anything but grant him the peace he so sought?

The brother Centaur's; Allerdran and Eunton; were both given knighthoods – and though the reason was not mentioned, I knew that they were well aware of the reasoning.

I became my brother's echo in those days without her. As he had once done, so had I. It was I who now walked solitary about the Castle, I who avoided lengthy dinners with dingy conversation, I who spent my time with the woods and forests of our land, although I had not the courtesy of such a friend as Phillip. I deeply missed her, and I was ashamed of it. I missed the comfort of a female companion who knew me as intimately as she once had. I had entrusted her with my life, with my heart and deepest secrets. I felt as though she had merely indulged me – until she had gotten her way with my brother.

Edmund, for his part, slowly withdrew from his shell as I crawled into the darkest depths of mine. With the assurance that she was indeed gone, he was freer than he had been in a while. He was still not the Just King we had all grown to love – with sometimes somewhat bawdy humour and a gentle tone, but he was slowly becoming surer of himself.

Daily he sent a herald of some sort after me to enquire if I would join them for some reason or other, and continuously I replied that I could not, but I was touched by the offer. He made no attempt to find me, most likely assessing I needed the time alone as he had once done to re-establish myself.

Christmastide seemed to come upon us with rather a sudden blast of much joyous occasion. As I – somewhat warily – entered the large but comfortable living area Edmund frequently occupied, the sight of my family gathered about caused a rush of pure and simple love to pulse through me. It was in that moment I knew I had done the right thing, however painful it might be. A glance at Edmund showed me that – as ever – he was attempting to feel more joyous than was truth. He looked up as I moved to sit, and his eyes conveyed a world of apology and feeling I could only give a gentle shake of the head to.

As Lucy began handing the presents out we had all so carefully placed under the huge and impressive tree, I could not but feel thankful that Edmund and I had taken to shopping for such an occasion together some weeks ago, when Susan first began mentioning the date – of course barring each other's gift. Looking back at that time, I yearned for the light heartedness we had both enjoyed. A full week without valets or servants – a full day with no one but a raven, one of Edmund's closest friends, to watch out for us as we shopped and laughed and relaxed, simply enjoying the simple comfort only a brother's companionship could bring. No mention of my Lady, no mention of a wedding, and no mention of the burden upon Edmund to also marry. He had claimed himself a ready bachelor, and though we had never discussed it fully, I was almost certain for his reasoning's. I did not worry, I did not blame, and I did not care. As long as he was not hurt, or misused, I could fault him for nothing.

My thoughts were interrupted as Lucy pressed my pile – rather large – into my lap, as though making a conscious effort to get me to respond. "Peter," she probed softly.

I looked up at her with a sigh. "Thank you... Lucy." She gave me a brief, searching look, before smiling at me, as though nothing had happened, and then waltzing off to continue her present giving. I sighed softly, glancing at the pile of presents on my lap, shaking my head. Each and every year I protested against having such gifts; claiming I'd find no use for them, and each and every year my siblings, my family, would delight me with their thoughtful ways and presents.

As we began to open them, I stole a look at Edmund. My brother was deep in thought, gifts quite forgotten in his lap for a moment as he seemed to contemplate something far from us. Without warning or seeming reason he stood, the presents falling to the floor with a soft _thump_. My sisters looked up, equal looks of question and confusion in their faces. "Ed?" Lucy prompted, when our brother did not speak.

He shook his head, merely glancing at the clock, as though in some strange reply, before leaving the room. I passed a confused look toward my sisters, and while one simply shrugged her shoulders, the other rolled her eyes, and stood, moving to follow our brother. I sighed, placing my own gifts rather neatly on the side, trailing somewhat further behind.

We watched in polite confusion as Edmund rounded up six or so centaurs, who – to my shame – seemed to know exactly what our brother was about. He led them outside without a word, into the cold, and we followed. It was only when I saw one of our courtiers, a nymph, handing first Edmund a pillar aflame, and then each of us one that I understood. Lucy's small gasp alerted me to her awakening, whilst Susan murmured "Oh! How could we have forgotten...?"

The tradition was as old as our reign, and had been set up by none other than Narnia's Just King. It had been his way, I suspected, of trying to do right the wrong he had passed through Narnia when he had almost thrown caution to the wind and become friends with the Witch. However much my siblings and I tried to convince him otherwise, Edmund still perceived he had somewhat of a debt to pay with Narnia and her people – and this was his way, even if it was only a small something, of respecting that debt.

As though on some cue, though no word had been said, the centaurs took up their horns, and began to blow a strange and haunting melody. We stood in the cold day, reflecting what had been lost what now seemed so long ago. Or for me, perhaps, not so long ago...

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I was half furious with them for forgetting. Part of me however conceded to the fact that I was mostly furious because it only confirmed what I already knew. I was, for the most part, alone in my regret and guilt for what had happened, and those we had lost. Of course, neither of my sisters nor my golden brother had almost betrayed a land they were to one day rule, but that was somewhat beside the point. I could forgive Peter easily – he had had many more things on his mind than easing my conscious. It was Lucy and Susan who I felt ashamed of. When Peter could not, we were supposed to hold Narnia's weight on our shoulders. We were supposed to be his strength, Narnia's strength. And they had not remembered.

As the Centaur's tune followed the sad melody line I had written not so long after Aslan had crowned us, I could not help but glance about my family. Susan and Lucy were standing quietly together, in reflection, hands about their flickering pillars. Glancing over at my brother, however, I saw quite a different image. A lonely King; and nothing more. It suddenly dawned on me of what he must be thinking, and I automatically felt ashamed. I would have gone to his side but Peter was well known for hiding his feelings and as I watched him it seemed as though the very weight of the world, and not just Narnia, were on his shoulders.

Eventually Gnallic, one of the centaurs, signalled the end beat, and we were left in silence, with nothing but the flickering spit of our torches and each other's breathing to accompany our thoughts. I felt Lucy and Susan fade away, and turned briefly, seeing them moving off discreetly, soon realising that the centaurs had also disappeared.

I sighed softly, placing my own torch in the ground, the solemn flickering of each seeming to be a statement of some sort. Which, indeed, if one only cared to look carefully, it was. I moved to my brother's side, placed a hand up on a shoulder I soon discovered was trembling.

No words I could speak would ease the pain I felt sure my brother felt, of that I was sure. Although I had never – and hoped never to be – in love, I had seen the delights it had cast upon my brother, as though some spell had been placed on his heart. Now the spell was lifted, but at what price? My brother's eyes twinkled that little bit less, his countenance a little less sure, his presence a little less felt.

With nothing but the birds that had begun to tweet our company, we stood in mutual silence, each lost in his thoughts until Peter eventually spoke, his voice as heavy as the weight of a crown. "I am so sorry, Edmund."

"Nay," I argued softly. "There is nothing to apologise for. What's done is done, Peter, and you must try to think not upon her but on happier times."

"Are you able to?"

"I am sorry?"

"Are you able to look on ... _happier_ times?" His voice grew slightly in its volume; a slight challenge within. "After... all you faced, are you able to do this?"

"It is hard, but Aslan has taught me to accept what I cannot change, and try to influence what I can. Sometimes... the evil has to be seen, has to be challenged... so that we can appreciate the good."

Peter sighed softly. "Have you always been so wise, brother dearest?"

I managed a faint smile. "Never as wise as thee, brother."

****

Author's N: This is a very shoddy piece of work, and I admit it. I do apologise for my lack of update but at the moment my life is a little too complex. I thought I owed you all at least one chapter – however poor the attempt. So, my apologies, dear readers, for it.


	4. A Second Betrayal

**Brother, Dearest Thou Art**

**Disclaimer: I own naught. CS Lewis, Disney, and the Lewis Foundation are the correct and rightful owners of the Pevensies and all characters mentioned therein the Chronicles. Any that are not recognised (aka Gnallic) are from my own imagination.**

**Chapter Three**

It would be a lie to try and say that things grew easier, more cheerful, as the celebrations drew to a close. It might also be a lie to say that Peter and I grew happier about each other's company. However, we did not shy from each other as we once had; though we still did not seek out the company of the other without cause, we did not avoid. Peter grew thoughtful and silent as I launched myself once more into the training of our army and the politics of Narnia. The subject of Peter and the Lady's wedding still loomed about us – he had not cancelled nor declared it still happening – but we did not dare to speak of it.

What we had not counted on was the interaction of our sisters. Somewhere, in the din of our minds, we had not even _thought_ that they might go about trying to weave their way into this complicated mess of emotions and fears and pain. But weave and prod they did. I was in the courtyard, practicing footwork with Oreius, when Allerdran and Euton charged toward us. I swung my sword, thinking that the General had perhaps ordered them to be part of the training, when I saw the anxious expressions they were, and noted that they did not hold weaponry. Lowering my sword, I waited for the two centaurs to stand before me.

Euton spoke first, his flank rising and falling heavily in his distress and lack of breath as he struggled to get his words through. "Sire... your sisters... the Queens..." he swallowed, and without a word Oreius handed him a large pitcher of water that had been kept nearby, which the Centaur downed in less than a second, before continuing. "Your brother's Lady, sire..."

I needed to hear no more.

"Phillip!" I called, and my horse, who had been watching us from not too far off, enjoying the shade of a tree in the heat of the sun, trotted over, allowing me to climb on his back. I launched myself up with a grimace and took hold gently of his mane, muttering an apology for riding him bareback, something I knew the horse did not like me doing, claiming that one day I would fall off and he would leave me behind. I turned to the brother Centaurs. "Where are they?" I requested, almost trembling in my desire to get to them. Whatever _she_ had done to them, whatever was happening... I would stop it. She would not hurt them, she would not get away with whatever games she might have planned for my sisters. To have harmed me was forgivable – I was worth nothing, after all. But she had already hurt Peter, hurt him beyond imagining, and was getting away with it. I would not allow it to happen a third time.

Allerdran spoke next, glancing at his brother. "I will take you, sire. They are in the throne room. Your brother is holding a meeting in the Council Room..." he added. I nodded. There was no need for Peter to find out, perhaps. No need to break his heart further.

"Tell him nothing until everything is clear to me," I ordered, turning to Orious. "You are under an oath of silence, Orious. I trust that you will keep to it." The Centaur only nodded, and I kicked gently at Phillip's flank, appreciating as the horse reared forward, galloping toward the Palace. Within seconds we were inside, and I was following the Centaur brothers to where I could hear shouting and words I had never believed my sister capable of saying launching from Susan's mouth with all the ferocity of Aslan himself. Without prompting Phillip charged at the closed door, kicking it open with his front hooves as he reared up, almost causing me to fall to the floor. I held fast, my anger making me stable, and as the door kicked open, my eyes flew about, narrowing as they spotted Peter's _Lady_. Her hand was about the Gentle Queen's throat, and Susan was turning an awful white colour.

I growled in anger, jumping from Phillip's side and running forward, fighting to pull her from my sister. But she was stronger than me – embarrassingly so – and quickly pushed me aside as she continued to throttle my sister. "Euton!" I called out desperately to my friends and now Knights. "Allerdran, help Susan!" The Centaurs needed no further encouragement. They charged forward, one wrenching the Lady from my sister, the other steadying Susan as she gasped for breath, shaking violently. I ran to Susan's side, pulling her into my arms protectively, shaking in anger. "Knights, take the Lady to the Great Hall," I demanded, softly. "Phillip, would you please go to Peter, tell him that I must see him, immediately, and that all matters can wait for this." The horse and Centaur's nodded. I watched in relief as the two Centaur brothers dragged Peter's fiancée from the room, Allerdran wrapping a hand about the woman's mouth so she could not say anything, before turning my attention back to my shaking sister.

"Edmund..." she gasped out my name quietly through a choking breath, and I flinched as she shuddered a little against me.

"It's alright, Su." I tried to comfort, awkwardly (for I had never been one with the eloquence and gift of being able to comfort as Peter had). "She's gone now. You'll be fine." I swallowed, wondering quietly what my brother's reaction to this new evidence against his Lady would now be. Would he continue to avoid the topic? Would his heart – normally so protective of his sisters – force him to accept her true nature? And how would it affect him? His heart had always been an open pathway – would the doors now close? Would he become as I believed I was, a statue set in stone, unchanging? I did not want that to happen to him. I did not want my brother to turn into a shadow... he was worth more.

Three hours later, Peter eventually entered the Throne Room. Susan was in her rooms with her trusted sprite maiden, Nyra, and under heavy guard should the Lady attempt to escape her cell again. We had inspected the cells, finding them disturbingly twisted and burned beyond recognition, aiding the Lady's escape. Why she had attacked the Gentle Queen was still somewhat unknown, but what _was_ known was that somehow, somewhere, Susan had realised what was causing the rift between Peter and I. She would barely look at me, and would tremble at any mention of my brother's Lady. I had left her unwillingly, but necessarily.

Lucy had now been told everything, and sat upon her throne white-faced, gripping the arms of her seat as though she might break them. She had been furious as the truth had unfolded, furious at me for hiding it, furious at Peter for suffering in silence, and furious at the Lady for even _daring _to attempt to harm her family. The Valiant had even threatened to have the Lady executed then and there – a feat most unusual for Lucy, who so loved fairness above all. She had dressed herself in the dark green clothes tradition for Narnia in times of mourning, and looked imposing and untouchable on her throne.

Peter frowned at us as he entered, and I noted with a little guilt the darkness shading his eyes, the paleness of his skin. I hesitated, suddenly finding myself unable to say anything, not wanting to cause the High King further pain, further heartache. Lucy, brave little Lucy (who in truth was now not so little), did no such thing. "Peter." She greeted him coolly. He frowned at her, then at me.

"My meeting was interrupted by the Centaur brothers telling me that you wished for my company here," he began. "And yet you both stand before me as two judges in a court. And why is Lucy wearing mourning clothes? Has something happened?" his eyes finally glanced upon Susan's empty throne, and I could see the cogs ticking in his brain. "Susan... is she alright?"

"No." Lucy said, chillingly. Peter's eyes widened, and he looked up at her, eyes already tearing a little, as though he feared the worst. "No, she is not alright, Peter." She continued, still gripping her chair. "She is far from alright." The Valiant Queen took a breath. "Our Sister has been attacked."

"Attacked?" Peter's eyes narrowed in cold fury. "By whom? By the Lion, I shall have their heads! Who has attacked her? Where is she?"

Lucy glared at him. "I do not think you would attack this... person." She finished, having been apparently unable to find a word strong enough to describe his Lady. "For apparently your own feelings go far beyond the safety of your fellow rulers. Apparently you do not care for your siblings as they once might have believed, for you have allowed a traitor amongst us without dealing with them as you should have done – after knowing their actions!"

The High King looked at me, uncertainly. He frowned, as I looked to the ground, then back up at him, my own gaze not quite as steely as I would have it. He took a breath, turning back to Lucy. He shuffled his feet a little. "Edmund has been forgiven all sin, Lucy." He said, his voice gentled, sounding to my ears a little patronising. My heart froze a little at his words, and the explicative that fell from Lucy's lips shocked us both.

"How dare you speak of such!" She cried, rising from her throne, standing still taller than the High King thanks to the three steps separating them. "It is not _Edmund_ who is a traitor, Peter Pevensie! It is not _Edmund_ who has caused misery. It is not our brother who been slicing a knife through the very heart of our family." She took a deep breath, chest heaving a little. Lucy glared at the High King. "Your fiancé, Peter."

Peter swallowed, opening his mouth, twice, before eventually speaking. "What of her?" He asked, sounding somewhat resigned.

Lucy only looked more insulted that the blonde had not denied the Lady such a title as to be his future Queen. "She has attacked a member of the Court." She spat. Peter flinched, turning to me. The brunette Queen moved further down the steps, and met her brother's eyes. At sixteen, she stood slightly taller I, meaning she was almost level with the High King. I watched as they viewed each other silently for a moment. The High King hesitated, before speaking quietly.

"Edmund was asked to keep silent." He spoke.

"It is not _me_ she speaks of, Peter Pevensie." I reprimanded quietly. The High King's eyes looked up to meet mine.

"You should have never had Edmund make such a promise." Lucy added, her voice as cold as stone. "We four are rulers here, Peter. Not you alone. We are equal though you are High King. Can you not understand that?"

"Lucy, I... I do not understand," Peter admitted, heavily. "Of whom do you speak, if not Edmund?"

The Valiant Queen took a breath. "Susan." She revealed softly. "Your _Lady_ attacked Susan."

The High King froze, his head slowly turning to face Lucy. "No." He denied. "She would not. She could not."

"And yet she hurt Edmund."

Our sister's voice was flat, unemotional. I glanced at her curiously, and her gaze flickered briefly toward me before settling on Peter once more. "You have had her thrown in prison for her actions, but never properly sentenced." She accused. "It makes me wonder if your promises of love to us are as strong as we had once believed. It makes me wonder whom you would choose."

"Lu?" Peter enquired, softly.

Lucy's eyes narrowed and she pulled away from him as our brother attempted to place a hand on her arm. "No. I am _not_ that to you today. Not after all she has done, all _you_ have ignored. I am not as clueless as you would have me believe." She hissed. The young Queen paused. "Do you know, Peter, what the sentence in Narnia is for defiling a Royal?"

Peter stilled. "No," he lied. Lucy hissed a breath.

"You are a coward," she decided. The High King's eyes narrowed, and I saw his hand briefly stray to his sword before he hesitated and dropped it. My eyes narrowed. Peter would consider striking his sister? Who was this man? Where had the greatest Ruler of Narnia's time gone? Who was this man in his place, this coward who would strike a woman – nay, a _Queen_, a _sister_? Lucy turned away from him, moving back to the thrones, one upon which I still sat, frozen, as she moved to my side and placed a hand gently against my shoulder, looking Regal and ethereal in the strange calmness that seemed to envelope her. "The sentence for attacking a member of Aslan's court is banishment, Peter. The sentence for defiling a Royal is death."

Peter swallowed. "Only Aslan can pass such a judgement, Lucy." He countered softly. "Do you intend to go against Him and judge the Lady for yourself without His word?"

Lucy growled softly. "Do not turn this on me. I have sent word, and hope Aslan to be here within the week. If he is not, then we will wait on him. I am simply telling you the law, Peter Pevensie. A law that you have somewhat lacked to keep." She shook her head. "I am most disappointed in you, brother. As would our parents be, if they were here."

The High King narrowed his eyes. "Do not attempt to speak for them, Lucy," he warned. "You do not know what they would have me do."

"I do know that they would have you keep to your promises. And you made a promise to protect us, Peter." Countered our sister. "Will you break this promise now? After so long?"

Peter shook his head. "you do not speak for them." He repeated.

"No. I am merely a voice for the past," Agreed our sister. "Now, with sentence passed, I will go to see to our Sister." She turned to me. "Edmund, would you accompany me?"

I swallowed, not daring to meet the eyes of my older brother, feeling inclined to comfort him, but Lucy's words had shocked me to my core, and my head was still spinning. "_I_ will come with you," interjected Peter. Lucy span to face him.

"I did not ask you," she spat. "Think on your actions, and come to us when you are truly sorry, Peter Pevensie. Otherwise, do not waste my time, or ours." She shook her head, turning to me again.

"Ed?"

I nodded, admittedly a little frightened by this change in my younger sister. "I'm coming." I followed her from the room, leaving my brother in silence as the doors closed behind us, his thoughts engulfing him.

NRP: **I apologise for the length of time it has taken me to update this fic, my dear readers. Sadly I had to take a break from writing Narnian stories; my muse simply refused to co-operate. I hope this slightly-longer-than-normal chapter will make up for the length of time. I also hope to add another chapter before February is done with. A happy new Year to you all! As always, reviews are much welcomed.**


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